


A taste

by Totally_Legit



Category: GOT7
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Dry Humping, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Love Triangles, M/M, One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totally_Legit/pseuds/Totally_Legit
Summary: It's been five years and Youngjae could never justmove on.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Im Jaebum | JB
Comments: 27
Kudos: 46





	A taste

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovely biscuits and panda bears.  
> I don't know what project I want to be working on at the moment, so I'm just scribbling.
> 
> I haven't posted yet this year, so here's a little snack for you guys.

Seeing Jaebum hurts. It’s been five stupid years and it still hurts. Youngjae doesn’t know what he’s been thinking. This is dumb. But of course he knows perfectly what he’s been thinking. And he’s aware that it wasn’t necessarily his brain that made the decision.

Jaebum is standing under the lamp post next to the subway entrance, exactly where Youngjae asked him to be, huddled up in a big coat, shoulders drawn up against the cold. It’s sort of unreal to see him and at the same time, this is the only way he feels comfortable when it comes to Jaebum. Watching him from afar, waiting in the shadows across the street, staring, brooding, pining and too afraid to walk over and be seen.

Jaebum is rocking up and down on his feet, clearly shivering in the cold and darkness of a January night, hands buried in the pockets of his coat. Youngjae pities him. He’s almost fifteen minutes late already and if Jaebum is anything like he used to be years ago, he’s been early and has been standing in the freezing air for half an hour.

When his feet finally carry him over, Youngjae knows it’s not his brain who made the decision. Jaebum is looking in the other direction, shuffling to keep himself warm and Youngjae approaches him slowly, quietly until he’s close enough to be heard. “Hyung.” He says as softly as he can and watches him spin around. Their eyes meet in the middle and it doesn’t even take a second before a smile breaks out on Jaebum’s handsome face, creasing his eyes and making him more stunning on top of the rosy from cold wind cheeks. “Youngjae.” He says and that’s all.

Youngjae stares, heart pounding in his chest, fingers numb, breathless from nothing in particular. He has no idea what he was going to say. How they were going to do this, how to get to the point. When he reached out to Jaebum after stalking him on social media he was upset. Angry, jealous and admittedly a little drunk. He never had any sort of plan, he just felt this strong pull in his chest, this longing that had been in his heart for so long, it’s become of part of him. And it never ceased.

Youngjae more or less consciously decides to ignore the elephant in the room and settles on. “I’m sorry for being late.” Jaebum doesn’t say it’s okay. He just shrugs or maybe it’s just part of his holding himself warm. “You must me cold.” Youngjae says dumbly. “Come, let’s go inside.” Jaebum doesn’t answer, but he follows him closely. Takes one, two, three big steps on his long legs that bring him up to be next to him. Youngjae leads.

It’s not far, five minutes that he walks every day from this specific subway station. He halts in front of a small house. It’s not an apartment building. It’s just a two story family home that Youngjae rents the upper floor from, the old couple who own it living on the ground floor. “Where are we?” He hears Jaebum’s voice, finally, a voice he could never get enough from. “My place.” He answers without looking back as he unlocks the door, stepping inside and holding it for Jaebum to follow him.

He hesitates and it has his heart contract in fear, but then he steps over the threshold and Youngjae pushes the door shut behind them, one step closer to where he wants to be, something that makes him nervous and giddy at the same time.

Jaebum follows him obediently after that. Up the stairs, inside his apartment, taking off his shoes and hanging his coat on the rack. “Coffee? Tea? Beer?” Youngjae asks turning around on his way to the kitchen and drawing Jaebum’s gaze from the doorway to the living room from looking around curiously. There’s a beat of silence. “Why am I at your place?” He asks, underlying suspicion but not appalled or angry. Youngjae stares at him. He does have an answer and yet he doesn’t. With the coat off he can make out the broadness of his shoulders, the slender hips and the long legs. If, in the past five years anyone had asked him who the world’s most handsome man was, he’d only have had one answer, but until this moment he feels like he had forgotten how handsome Jaebum  _really_ is.

“Coffee.” His smooth voice tears him from his thoughts. “Lots of milk and sugar.” Youngjae continues and walks to the kitchen to prepare it. He stays in there while the coffee is brewing. It’s rude, but he needs the time out to collect himself. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know what to say to the man who should have been the love of his life. But he wasn’t. He still is. And it’s fucking dumb.

When he comes back to the living room with two steaming mugs he finds that Jaebum has gotten comfortable on the sofa. He reaches up and takes the coffee that Youngjae holds out to him before seating himself. They both take careful sips.

“If I ask you something…” Jaebum begins and from the corner of his eye Youngjae can see that he’s looking at him intently. “… can you promise me not to think I am too full of myself? Or that I give myself more credit than I deserve?” Youngjae frowns, peeking at him. He doesn’t understand. “Follow me. If you contacted me to catch up. Leave the past behind, become friendly, that sort of thing, you’d asked me to a coffee shop. But I am in your living room.” Jaebum speaks, then pauses to sip from his coffee again. True so far.

Instead of sitting up straight like people do when the conversation becomes more intense, Jaebum sinks into the couch.

“Have you two had a fight?”

Youngjae’s motions still, the cup against his lips. Then he takes it away without drinking, lets it sink into his lap, both hands holding on to it for dear life. He wants to laugh out loud and cry like a baby at the same time. It’s so stupid. Everything is so stupid. Jaebum is so smart, so accurate with his conclusion off the bat and yet so so far off from reality. Though, what even is reality at this point?

It does make sense now. Jaebum asking him to not think badly. Of course he would want to make sure that he doesn’t sound too pretentious. And from the outside it could seem that way. They don’t know each other’s life, Youngjae could have a million reasons for doing this, but somehow, deep down, Jaebum just knows it’s about him.

Youngjae shakes his head. They didn’t fight. There are so many things he needs to say, but he doesn’t want to. He wouldn’t even know where to start explaining everything.

Eventually Youngjae diverts his eyes away from the coffee table and looks to the side. Their eyes meet and it has him feel hot and cold, nervous and calm. Jaebum has that in him. His face so open and kind and comforting. “Are you seeing someone?” Youngjae asks, because the truth is, that’s the most important question right now. The implications couldn’t be more on the nose and it finally has Jaebum look away in return. Youngjae’s stomach plummets. He is. He’s dating. He has a boyfriend. Shit, he’s probably married. He can’t help how his eyes scan every single one of Jaebum’s fingers and on the fourth of his right hand sits a heavy silver ring. It doesn’t look like a wedding ring, but it has his palms feel clammy nonetheless.

Jaebum moves, sets his half-finished drink down on the coffee table before facing him again. “No.” He says quietly. “I am not.”

They say when life closes a door on you, it’ll open another one or something like that. Youngjae doesn’t really know how the saying goes exactly. He just knows that he doesn’t need a door. He doesn’t even need a window. All he needs is an opening. A mousehole, a crack in the wall, a tiny space for him to squeeze into. Even if he doesn’t fit, if he can peek through it will be enough.

“Can I have you?” He hears his own voice as if it’s coming from far away and he finds he doesn’t sound like himself. He isn’t tense. He isn’t nervously awaiting the answer. He is watching a hundred different emotions cross Jaebum’s face. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out and he closes it back up, staying silent. It’s not a no.

Youngjae puts his mug down and scoots closer to him. He doesn’t back away. The warm light from the ceiling lamp flatters him. His perfect complexion, his dark brown hair messy from the wind outside. He looks older, Youngjae can’t refute that, but it doesn’t bother him. It doesn’t matter that there were five years in between. All that it changed is that the feelings in Youngjae’s heart dug deeper, settled into every crack like cement, hardening in the tiny spaces and keeping everything together. Even if Jaebum changed, even if he isn’t the same person anymore, there is no scenario in which Youngjae won’t love him despite anything.

Jaebum doesn’t move away, but he’s not getting closer either. His voice is low and quiet when he asks. “Does he know?” It sets something in Youngjae’s chest. A painful tinge, squeezing and picking at his insides. “About you being here with me?” He’s shivering. He shakes his head. Jaebum backs off and makes his heart scream.

“I care about you.” Jaebum speaks softly. The way only he can speak. So honest and kind and nothing but the truth. “I don’t care how much time passed, I have still cared about you and I do now. I care about you two.”

Youngjae expects the painful sting to blow up, expects a metaphorical punch in his stomach, but it doesn’t come. It’s not a shock really. It hurts, but it’s a familiar pain. It’s what they’re all about, what they have always been about and he knows that. There could be an easy solution. Just tell him, he thinks. Just tell him everything. He will understand.

But he can’t. It feels wrong. It feels stupid. He doesn’t want to go down that road, even though he’s stumbling alone the muddy roadside already with his request out in the open. He doesn’t want to be that pathetic and obvious. But there’s something else nagging away at him. If he comes clean he will have to ask questions and hear answers he’s not ready for. Jaebum’s expression is so genuine, not entirely able to cover up the sadness lying underneath and Youngjae realizes he doesn’t want to hurt him either.

“I never had you.” His voice comes out shaky and he pauses for a moment to steady it but he doesn’t know how. “It’s not fair. I can’t get over you because I could never have you.” He explains just as unsteady as before. “He can get over you because he had you and I can’t.” He sees the sudden flash in Jaebum’s eyes and knows he said too much. It’s just natural to get over someone over a period of five damn years. But the situation is too obvious, Youngjae suddenly reaching out, the things he just said and of course Jaebum picks up on it with ease.

“Is that it?” He asks quietly. “Is that why I’m here?” Youngjae nods in defeat. It’s true. It’s not that easy, not that clean, but it’s true. Jaebum looks so sad, so pained, it makes Youngjae want to cry. He wants nothing more than to throw it in his face right now, dig into the shallow wounds until they hurt for real. Shout and yell and watch him crumble. It’s still Jinyoung. After all these years it’s still Jinyoung. 

“Let me have you.” He insists, coming off pathetic, but he doesn’t care. If there’s one thing he’s not afraid to bare it’s his feelings for Jaebum. Let him see all the nasty sides of it, the raw ugly ones. Because it’s part of who they are. It belongs to them and it’s what makes them fit together so well. It’s been these emotions and confessions that had Jaebum be so understanding and comforting and _perfect_. And it’s part of the reason why Youngjae is so hopelessly in love with him.

In that second it’s like the last years didn’t actually happen, as if they’re back where they once were. Telling each other of their feelings and hearing the answer. ‘I know. I feel the same.’ It’s like the five years they spent apart shrunk together into seconds and suddenly Youngjae is a college student again and Jaebum is drawing him in like magic and every second now Jinyoung will come bursting through the door.

“It’s been five years, Youngjae.” Jaebum reminds him and the fantasy evaporates. He’s Youngjae the office worker who can’t keep a guy’s attention for more than three minutes, not Youngjae the pathetic loser in love with his best friend’s boyfriend. “Couldn’t you have just moved on and left me behind?” Jaebum’s voice is pleading. It has Youngjae shaking. The years bloat up until they feel like a lifetime and now they don’t fit together anymore. “I told you I can’t.”

Silence hangs thick in the air after that. The coffee goes cold, forgotten on the table. Youngjae awaits a response that never comes.

He tried. He really has. He tried to date, to find someone to fill the void in him. He thought he’d managed, but then Jackson had cheated on him with that pretty-faced Chinese guy. Youngjae doesn’t know exactly how long the affair between them had been going on when he finally found out. He was devastated and had cried a lot and somehow Jackson had managed to cry even more. He’d apologized, promised he wouldn’t see him again, begged for forgiveness that Youngjae didn’t have and they separated on really bad terms. He knows that Jackson and Bam Bam got together after Youngjae had left his ass and they’d lasted only two months. Breaking your lover up with their boyfriend to be with them… that’s not a good foundation for a healthy relationship.

Youngjae is Bam Bam in this. He was the other guy from the start. He came into the picture only after Jaebum was already happily taken and everything went to shit after that. He has been single for the three years since he packed his things and moved out from his place with Jackson. It has kept him from flinging himself at Jaebum for a long time, witnessing Jackson’s failing relationship with the man he’d deemed more important than the one he already had. What’s the point? Youngjae will never not be the other guy.

Now he thinks not going for it was a bad choice. Now he thinks he shouldn’t have waited this long. Should have had some balls and contacted Jaebum the moment Jinyoung left Seoul. There wouldn’t have been such a wall of time between them. He’d have been shaken up, fiery and emotional, not settled into comforting solitude like he is now. His apartment hasn’t seen the same dick twice since he lives here. He likes it better like this. He works and plays. He goes out sometimes, but even that has become rare. He doesn’t want a relationship. He doesn’t want a boyfriend. He doesn’t want to get married.

But he does still want Jaebum.

Who cuts the silence finally. “I’ve had this dream you know.” He says longingly, dreamy expression on his pretty features. “This… I don’t know. Vision of the future, where…” He thinks for a bit and Youngjae waits. “… We’ll meet again, years later, years from now, when we’re all… married and have children.” Youngjae thinks that’s a stupid dream. “And we will look back and laugh about… how we were back then, so… So stupid. So edgy and dramatic.” There’s a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “I was certainly way too dramatic. We would be thinking how we had this teenager-conception of love. Like Hollywood. Like how it isn’t in real life. And how we’ll all find a true, real, adult love. Sane and reasonable and sober.” Youngjae squints. “Who dreams of sober love?” He asks disbelieving. It sounds awful.

“I dreamed that…” Jaebum whispers. “… then it wouldn’t hurt so much.” Youngjae swallows harshly. “You’re still being dramatic.” He gives back, but his voice wavers. Jaebum nods, his smile crooked. “Yeah… It was just a dream.”

  
  


“I’m far away from that.” Youngjae tells him. “All I ever dream about is you.” Jaebum shudders visibly, somewhat satisfying. “Don’t say that.” He retorts weakly. “You know how many times I’ve questioned my decision and tried to tell myself I did the right thing?” Youngjae shrugs. It’s not like he can help it. “Do the right thing now.” He says as serious as he can. Looking at him, studying his features and the pain he can make out in them.

“Have you two been fighting?” Jaebum wants to know, again. Youngjae huffs. “That’s not it.” He grumbles. “Have you had your heart broken?” Jaebum keeps asking and Youngjae can’t stand it. Why is he questioning him? Why can’t he just accept his reasoning? “No.” He sulks. Jackson briefly crosses his mind. That was ages ago, it doesn’t matter now.

“I wanted to cause the least possible amount of pain to you. Both.” Jaebum explains. “That hasn’t changed. And it’s hard. It was hard and it is still now. It broke my heart to leave you behind, don’t tempt me now. Don’t… make me give in and regret it later Youngjae, please…” He trails off and he sounds so genuine and sad and… scared. Youngjae has never really seen him scared. He always seemed so certain about what he was doing.

“This isn’t about him.” Youngjae can’t help the spite bubbling up inside him. “This is about me. And you.” He hates how Jinyoung stands between them even miles and years away. Jaebum doesn’t need words to tell him that he doesn’t believe it. It’s just natural that Jinyoung plays a role in everything they do, anything they have. It’s always been like that. Youngjae has only one chance and he knows it.

“He’s getting married, Hyung.”

It feels good to say it, at least for a moment. He hears the sharp inhale, sees the widening eyes, lips form an Oh. He didn’t want to. He doesn’t want to make it known how that is the reason why he finally gave in, as if he’d just been waiting for it, all this time lurking until Jaebum was finally free from Jinyoung’s grip, free from his claim.

“He moved on.” Youngjae keeps pushing anyways. If he’s breaking Jaebum’s heart, he doesn’t care right now. “From all three of us _he’s_ the one who moved on. Don’t you get it?” He’s leaning forward onto his arm, closer, closer to Jaebum. “He’s the one for whom it made sense. He’s just a regular guy who got left by a boyfriend that fell in love with someone else. That happens every day and people _move on_ from it.” He watches intently the twists and twinges in Jaebum’s face. “You’re the one who left behind two boys who were desperately in love with him because he didn’t think he could love one without hurting the other.” He has to take shaky breaths in between, because his throat threatens to close up, his chest aching. “I am the one who loved a man he could never have. Never. Not a second…” He’s blinking too rapidly. “Who’s been told by the man of his dreams that he’s liked back and yet never was allowed to... I’m not pining for the guy who broke up with me, I’m pining for the guy I never had.”

“Oh Youngjae…” Jaebum breathes, helplessly reaching out for him. He’s aiming for his face, Youngjae notices, but changes his mind midway to grab onto his shoulder. It would be unnatural. As much as Youngjae wants him to cradle his head and kiss him. It’s not natural for them to touch, to be intimate.

They’ve gone there once. Held onto each other, close, moving in, lips just a hand width away from one another. But they didn’t. Because neither of them could bear to break Jinyoung’s heart. Jinyoung’s heart is no longer in the mix. “I know you feel like…” Jaebum starts, but trails off. “Just… think how it would be for him. I don’t want to…” “He’s getting married!” Youngjae chimes in desperately. He’s leaning even closer, the weight of his upper body on his hands, stemmed into the soft surface of the sofa. “Even if he moved on from… from me. How would it be for him if  _you_ just…” He doesn’t need to finish. Youngjae knows what he’s saying. He feels his eyes water. He really didn’t want to do this to Jaebum.

“We’re not friends anymore. We haven’t been for years.” He witnesses in horror how something breaks behind Jaebum’s eyes. How his face closes off. “No…” He whispers. “Hyung, it’s not your fault.” Youngjae attempts, not yet ready to move away, bring more distance between them. “We just drifted apart, that’s normal for university friends…” It’s a lie, of course. But he can’t let Jaebum know.

Yes, him and Jinyoung drifted apart. Roommates and best friends through university who lost touch once they moved out to start their jobs. Jinyoung left Seoul for his work and they stopped seeing each other. But it wasn’t normal. Because even before that their relationship was strained. They forced themselves to stay friendly while they lived together, tried hard to uphold the good years they spent with each other. But it could never work. When Jinyoung cried after Jaebum, Youngjae couldn’t comfort him and Youngjae tried not to show that he was crying, too, but he knew that Jinyoung knew when he wept silent tears.

Maybe it was Youngjae’s fault after all. He’d fallen in love with Jaebum and he’d fallen hard. But Jaebum had also fallen in love with him, and that wasn’t Youngjae’s fault. It was Jaebum’s decision to leave. Jaebum who couldn’t decide between two boys. Jaebum who tried to do the only right thing and leave them both. So he wouldn’t see either of them hurt. So he wouldn’t destroy their friendship. So they could all get over it.

But Youngjae could never refute that it was Jinyoung who found him first. Jinyoung brought him home. He was Jinyoung’s boyfriend and if Jinyoung subconsciously felt he had a claim on Jaebum, Youngjae couldn’t blame him. Because love is never sane, nor sober. And deep down, in the deepest, darkest pit of Youngjae’s soul, he hated Jinyoung. For being in the way. For being the one to be allowed in Jaebum’s arms. Because Youngjae would have given up his friendship for Jaebum and he hated himself for that. So maybe, what Jaebum really achieved by leaving them both was to spare them having to expose their dirtiest, darkest thoughts to the world.

It was a blessing when their ways parted and neither of them put much effort into staying in touch. Youngjae only found out that Jinyoung is in a relationship at all when he found the invitation to his wedding in his inbox. He’s not sure why Jinyoung invited him. For old times sake? As a means of peace? To spite him?

But nonetheless it left him distraught, jealous, angry. Hence why he’s here. There are tears in Jaebum’s eyes, glittering like stars sprinkling the surface of a nightly lake. “That’s not what I wanted.” He whispers sadly. “That’s the one thing I wanted not to happen...” “I know, and it’s not your fault.” Youngjae insists and he might also cry. “I don’t care, you… You were made for each other.” Now Jaebum almost sounds hysteric. “You were supposed to be friends forever.”

Youngjae falls back onto his seat and the hand drops away from his shoulder. Only then he notices that he’d kept holding on and his heart contracts. “Friendships won’t last just because you want them to… That’s not how people work.” He explains weakly. “You can’t do this to me.” Jaebum insists, pleading, maybe childish in its own rights.

“I didn’t mean to.” Youngjae states exhaustedly. “But you kept asking.” Glancing over at him, he actually finds him crying silently. “Oh Hyung…” He whispers and he wants nothing more than to lean over and hold him, pet his hair and wipe the tears away. “I’m sorry… But things like that happen, there’s nothing you could have done…” Jaebum shakes his head wildly. “I left you!” He sobs. “I loved both of you and I left, because your friendship was more important! Because I’m a piece of shit who couldn’t decide on my own feelings. You can’t just stop being friends!”

Youngjae doesn’t know what to answer any longer and it seems to just rile up Jaebum more. “That makes everything I did meaningless!” He’s getting louder, eyes fiery and cheeks flushing. “Everything I went through… For nothing!” Something boils up in Youngjae’s chest. Everything  _you_ went through? That’s what he would be saying if Jaebum wasn’t crying. “Do you know how much it hurt to leave you? It hurt so much! The only thing that’s kept me going was… was thinking it was the right thing to do, but now it wasn’t… Youngjae,  _please_ .”

The urgency startles him more than he would have imagined. He stares at the crumpling figure on his sofa and it’s so surreal. He remembers vividly the days when he was young and shy and anxious and overburdened with the world and his responsibilities in it. And how Jaebum had always been so perfectly stable and comforting and supportive, easing his mind and his pain until Youngjae was certain that he was the only thing that would ever be able to keep him afloat.

He’s never seen Jaebum like this.

“Hyung.” He mumbles and Jaebum looks at him expectantly as if he holds all the answers. “That’s… how it happened. It can’t be changed now, it’s just…” He attempts a deep breath to calm himself. “If you’d known Jinyoung and I wouldn’t stay friends, what would you have done. This is where we are now. Can’t we just pretend that… That we’re like other people? That we met at a time we couldn’t be together, but now we can? Forget everything else and just… _move on_?”

Jaebum huffs shakily. “What if it doesn’t work?” He asks. “What if it does?!” Youngjae retorts, desperate, knowing that there’s more, but he doesn’t want to hear it. “What if we end up realizing that we’re not meant…” Jaebum insists. “Then all these years of pining were for nothing…” “But then we KNOW!” Youngjae cuts in. “If we don’t work out, at least we’ll know, Hyung.” He pleads. “There are no consequences to us splitting up in the end. None. Do you want to live the rest of your life wondering what could have been? I don’t!”

Jaebum is shaking his head. It’s not really an answer to his question, Youngjae can see it in his expression. He looks so lost and so so scared. “I can’t… What if…” Youngjae lifts his arms, like a child presses them to his ears, screwing his eyes shut along. He doesn’t want to hear it. He knows it. He doesn’t want to hear it, wants to pretend he doesn’t know, pretend that Jinyoung isn’t still between them. What if it was never him, right? What if things go awry and Jaebum realizes he should have stayed with Jinyoung from the start. Jinyoung, who is out of reach now because Youngjae was in the way. He shakes his head rapidly, blind and deaf, pressing on his ears so hard he can hear his blood rushing. “Don’t say it.” He pushes out.

His eyes tear open startled when something soft and gentle curls around his wrists. Jaebum moved in, Youngjae can see his face only blurry, through a veil of unshed tears and he placed his palms over the backs of his hands. He eases the pressure until Jaebum’s raspy breath can make it through to his ears. “What if it ends up hurting more?” He asks, so so quiet. Youngjae feels stupid with his hands up by his ears but he doesn’t want to take them away when Jaebum’s are still holding them so gently.

“Do it for me.” He whispers pleadingly. “Give me one chance.” He can see the hesitation in Jaebum’s eyes. “We don’t have to… rush it…” He doesn’t need him to kneel down and confess his eternal love. All he needs is a chance. A taste.

Jaebum lets go of his wrists. “Can I have a beer now?” He asks as he falls back in his place, cutting the tension off as if it was nothing. Youngjae’s heart tumbles. He’s not sure if he’s disappointed or happy. It takes him a moment to scramble to his feet and silently walk to the kitchen to grab two cans from the fridge. They toast. They sit apart just like before, the half-empty mugs of cold coffee the only reminder of what took place.

“I figure you wanted to catch up.” Jaebum speaks, almost but not perfectly steady. “So… what’re you doing now?”

Youngjae tries to ignore the bricks in his stomach as they talk. As they catch up. He doesn’t hate it, even though he thinks Jaebum has finitely decided to not get too close. It feels like back in the days. Which is good, but also not. He loves listening to Jaebum’s silky voice, when he speaks in that low tone of his, but he also feels  _watched_ . And he catches himself being alert not to step out of line. He drowns his beer and gets new ones. He realizes that, as he tells about himself he sounds like he’s got his life together. Which he never really thought wasn’t true, he gets along. It’s just that it feels different hearing it said out loud. In front of Jaebum no less. Jaebum who is older than him, who used to always be ahead and who now admits that he’s still struggling with short-term employment and balancing work and free-time.

Youngjae would like to imagine that his fear and pain eases, but it doesn’t. The longer they talk the harder it gets. Jaebum is just within reach and he can’t claim. He barely registers how he gets quieter, distracted by all the thoughts and emotions that threaten to overwhelm him. Until Jaebum sets his empty can down and sits up. “It’s late. I should go.” He says and gets up. Youngjae jumps to his feet immediately, torn from his stupor. “I don’t want you to go!” He panics. Jaebum’s shoulders are tense. “I should.” He repeats quietly and makes for the door. Youngjae follows him like an anxious puppy, fidgeting with his hands as he watches him put on his shoes and coat.

“You said we can take it slow.” Jaebum tells him softly. “Give me some time. Give us some time, just to see…” He trails off. He may be right, but Youngjae still doesn’t want it. “I don’t need time to know that I still love you.” He answers. It tells a lot about their twisted relationship that Jaebum doesn’t even flinch at the honesty. “I’m trying.” He says sadly.

Youngjae bites his teeth together and steps closer. “Promise me that you won’t…” He reaches out to grab onto the sleeve of his jacket, feeling like he could slip through his fingers any second. “… go away.” The phrasing is weird, but Jaebum gets him. He just gets him. “I promise.” He whispers. His arm twists out of his grip making Youngjae’s heart bump, but instead of walking away he catches his hand in mid-air, entangling their fingers. They’re a little damp from the cold beer can, but it’s Jaebum’s hand. In his. He pulls him closer, just a tiny tug that has him stumble forward like enchanted.

This time, when his free hand comes up, he really does place it against his jaw. A touch so innocent and yet unnaturally intimate, Youngjae’s eyes would flutter shut if he weren’t so determined to drink in every second of Jaebum’s visuals that he can get. It’s only in the silent, tense, drawn-out seconds after that that he realizes what Jaebum is doing. What’s happening. He sucks in a harsh breath, eyes growing wider.

They’re close, so damn close and it comes out of nowhere, Youngjae doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He feels like he’s never done this, doesn’t know how it works. Jaebum’s face leans in and still Youngjae keeps his eyes open, because he needs to verify that it’s happening, even when Jaebum’s close as his mouth is just a centimeter away. Their lips brush chastely, a feather-light touch that is enough to catapult him to the moon.

He wishes he was a character in a drama, wishes their kiss was shot in slow motion, drawn out and repeated from ten different angles, but it is over too soon. He barely gets a taste of Jaebum’s lips, has no time to appreciate the softness, hardly notices how they’re dry and chapped from the cold winter air.

Jaebum pulls back, just enough so their connection breaks, but stays so close he can smell his beer-tinted breath, feel it fan over his face when his eyes fly back open. “I dreamed of kissing you.” He confesses quietly. It’s not a big confession. Of course he did. Youngjae’s heart still flutters. “I hate that I never had the chance…” he feels his thumb rub over his cheek so affectionately he could start crying on the spot. It’s quiet for a while, but it doesn’t feel finite. Something is looming over them, making the air heavy and Youngjae anxiously awaits it. “Or the chance to tell you…” From the vicinity he can see Jaebum’s Adams apple bob as he swallows. “… how beautiful you are.” Youngjae shudders. “How much I wanted to bask in your sunlight.”

He can’t help it. He launches forward with a pitiful cry and smashes their lips together again. It’s a good sign that Jaebum doesn’t push him away. Allows him another kiss, a little more heat, a little more pressure. Youngjae is drawn to him, like they’re magnets, independent when there’s enough space between them, but who clash together if they’re too close for just a second, when you suddenly need too much energy to keep them apart.

Jaebum’s hand slips behind the back of his neck, makes a trail of goosebumps travel from where he touches all the way down his spine. Youngjae’s free hand balls into the front of his coat, pulls him tight, has them invade each other’s personal space beyond what is acceptable.

It’s strange. Youngjae should be more excited, but it hasn’t really gotten through to his core that he is indeed kissing Jaebum. The only person he ever desperately wanted to kiss. It just feels  _good_ . It’s nothing like the usual drunken hook-ups who plunder his mouth savagely and yet it is similar. When Jaebum’s tongue pushes between his lips he can taste the familiar flavor of beer on it, but he finds that he doesn’t mind, welcomes the warm sticky muscle and reminds himself that it is Jaebum. It’s Jaebum’s tongue against his own and his knees go weak.

He can’t remember when his eyes did fall shut finally, but he relishes in it, kisses with all he has, tightens his fingers around Jaebum’s, holding it locked. Jaebum’s face breaks away, they part, both gasping for air, breathing each other in. “Youngjae…” his voice is raw, their eyes meet.

It’s there. The fire. The passion suppressed for too long a time. The longing gazes they shared over the dinner table, across the room behind Jinyoung’s back before he found out. It’s all there and it’s stacked up into a tower so tall it threatens to fall over and crash them beneath. Jaebum’s warm palm is still against his neck when he leans his forehead against his, chest stuttering with heavy pants. Youngjae’s head tilts and it feels like neither of them is actually doing anything, not deliberately moving and yet they find themselves in another kiss, even harsher and more enthusiastic than the one before.

Youngjae doesn’t think he has any conscious control of his limbs, his body, what he’s doing. The urge to keep kissing Jaebum is so deep and raw, he’s working on pure instinct. If that weren’t the case he would never dare to do what he does next, letting go of Jaebum’s hand and coat and placing his palms against his chest, sliding them underneath the unzipped jacket all the way to his shoulders to push it off.

It’s a crucial moment, he would know that if his brain was coherent. Jaebum’s arms go slack, hanging down loose and like in slow-motion the coat slips, gravity pulling it to the ground until Jaebum’s fingertips come out on the other end and it falls with an audible thud. It’s barely a second before their hands are back onto each other, grasping, feeling. They have to part for air, Youngjae’s arms wrapping tightly around Jaebum’s neck while his lie on the small of his back, boldly slipping underneath his sweater and making him squirm with want.

It’s wet between their mouths, too much so to be erotic or cute, but Youngjae doesn’t care. He can’t bear to move just one millimeter further away, lips grazing each other even as they pause to breathe. He pushes, with his whole body so they’re connected from head to toe. They fit well, same height, same width, but even if they didn’t, Youngjae would be determined to  _make_ them fit, find the perfect space for himself in Jaebum.

Their lips slot together again and again, fingers too nosy to be restrained, yet too restrained to explore. Youngjae’s nails catch into the skin of Jaebum’s neck, curl around the neckline of his sweater to pull while Jaebum’s palms rub the small of his back, stopping short of his waistband each and every time.

It’s a strange place in time and space. Chastity molds into passion, flowing into fragile affection taken over by raw want. It makes Youngjae dizzy, though maybe that’s just the scent of Jaebum’s hair or the lack of oxygen, but something makes him dizzy. Every now and then a tingling sensation invades his body, makes his skin crawl and his knees shake and it takes him a comically long time to grasp what it is.

By the time he does, Jaebum already has. He growls against his lips, a sound that has his brain short-circuit and with his fingers tightly knotted into the back of Youngjae’s shirt he pushes against him, so hard that he stumbles backwards and crashes into his hallway wall painfully, but he can’t be bothered, because he finally grasps it, the tightness of his jeans and the repeated shudders that he can’t seem to get under control. He moans, audibly so, when the collision with the hard wall has Jaebum crash into him mercilessly, putting insane pressure against his crotch. He’s hard.

Finally the heat takes him over, doubts, longing and fear making way for lust, the insane need drowning out everything that isn’t related to Jaebum’s body. His groping hands and pushy tongue. The hardness in his pants, obnoxious against his own. His hips push and push, rutting against him on the verge of violent. It’s a little painful, but more so it is good.

Hesitation emits one last roar in his guts when he tugs his lips out of Jaebum’s reach. Their eyes find one another, but everything that Youngjae fears to find is absent from his gaze. His eyes are dazed, clouded, wet lips parted in heavy panting and he thinks he can see the same want in his face that is eating himself from the inside.

He pushes, pulls, grabs Jaebum by his shirt and draws him along, stumbling his way back into the apartment, through the living room where the coffee mugs still speak a different language and inside his bedroom where the door crashes painfully loud into the wall as he rushes them through. He half-pushes, half-throws Jaebum onto the bed and climbs after him without a second of hesitation. That’s gone for good.

Desperately he flings his legs over Jaebum’s thighs, settling heavily onto his hips and allows both of them just one needy moan before he leans down to catch his favorite pair of lips into another heated kiss. Jaebum’s arms fly up to grab onto him, fingertips digging into the back of his neck and curling into his shirt as his hips buck up, crashing their crotches together harshly. Youngjae groans into his open mouth, presses his bottom down with the same intensity until he feels like he’ll pass out from the pressure against his erection.

He knows they should take their pants off. Knows that they should get naked and be more thorough, but he can’t bring himself to it. Too afraid to lose their rhythm, the established and pathetic rutting of hips that speak of all the years of neglected desire. And too impatient.

He grinds their erections against one another with his knees digging into the mattress and his twisted body strained to press their chests together at the same time, sensation muffled and rough through the restrictive layers of clothing.

Jaebum whimpers against his lips, fingers tearing and grasping uncontrollably. His noises are loud, louder than Youngjae’s and so desperate, high-pitched whimpers and drawn-out moans of lust that make his skin crawl, his ears ring and his cock pulse.

It’s a little blurry, a hazy memory or hundreds of them, but it takes Youngjae a while to dissect it into the feeling of familiarity that’s buried underneath. He’s heard those noises before. He breaks the kiss involuntarily, gasping harshly over the realization. He heard them. He listened to them through his bedroom wall over and over and over again. It was never Jinyoung’s voice that he heard and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. Is Jaebum just naturally vocal? Or did he enjoy himself with Jinyoung so much?

The strange feeling in his chest of which he knows that it’s jealousy and still feels overwhelmed by it even though he knows it well has him zone out long enough for Jaebum to catch him off guard. He throws him off with ease, rolls them around and slots in between his legs, groaning and burying his face into his neck as he grinds their hips together again. It’s too tight, too harsh, has Youngjae whimpering while he’s trying to shake off the daze.

“Youngjae…” He hears his name breathed against his ear, so needy that it snaps him back into the present for good. Jaebum rocks against him, moaning into his skin. Youngjae grasps for him, feels fabric under his fingers, too thick and too much, no skin to touch and it bothers him, but he’s too afraid that if they pause to take off their clothes that something is going to happen. He couldn’t bear it if they weren’t to finish what they have started. Couldn’t bear Jaebum walking away from him just because he gave him a moment to think.

So he bucks his hips up, increasing the friction until it hurts and listens to their mingled whimpers. He doesn’t know how Jaebum does it, his forehead against Youngjae’s padded collarbone he lifts his body away, just a notch, just enough to get his hands between them and Youngjae can’t stop him, because the relief is too tempting and with a lot of fumbling and desperate noises Jaebum manages to pop open the buttons on his jeans and shoves a hand inside.

Youngjae’s head flies back as he grinds into Jaebum’s palm covering his aching cock, choking on his own moan. More fumbling and painful tugging and with a groan of relief his erection is freed from the confines of his pants, pulled out over the waistband of his panties and engulfed by Jaebum’s rough hand. Youngjae is certain that he’s never felt a better thing in his life. Except, as erratic as Jaebum is, wincing into the textile of his shirt and his bottom still rutting, the raw front of his jeans drags along his naked length and Youngjae hisses in pain. “Fuck…” Jaebum chokes out.

Youngjae’s had it. Wrapping his arms and legs all the way around him, he rolls them over again, pushes him down to settle on top once more. It’s incredibly hot. Jaebum looks overwhelmed as he splays back into the sheets, secured by Youngjae’s weight, moaning and shifting. And Youngjae sits on his thighs and looks down at the view, skin glowing with sweat against the black of his hair framing his face, sweater crumpled in all possible and impossible places and as sexy as it’d be if he were naked, Youngjae enjoys it nonetheless, Jaebum’s clothed body and himself enthroned atop it with his exposed cock standing proudly between his legs.

He tears at the button of Jaebum’s pants, pulling the zipper down too harshly and digging the contents out in the same manner that Jaebum did, listening to his cries and as his hips kick up, just when Youngjae finally gets him out, their cocks brush together involuntarily, breaking them both down to their barest, deepest instincts.

Youngjae likes a lot of things, sexually. He likes to be held down and thoroughly fucked. He likes to crush a guy’s skull between his thighs while they swallow him down to the base. He likes to make love to someone to the air of scented candles and romantic songs. But still he thinks, this is the most erotic moment he’s ever felt. He’s aware that it’s not the how, it’s the who, but right now he can’t care. With the way Jaebum whimpers and trembles for him, his taught thighs flexing underneath his butt as he grabs him firmly, pressing him up against his own length, underside to underside. And he notices that they fit together there too. As much as they’re equal in height, they’re equal in length, too. It’s fascinating to watch them slide together, so perfectly similar like they’re made for one another.

Jaebum’s hand comes up, shaky, while he lifts himself barely up onto his free elbow, getting close enough to grip Youngjae’s cock and make him shudder. Their hands touch, curled around both of them, adding pressure from both sides and they really are a perfect match. Their hands are the same size too, they used to compare them, hold them up palms pressed together even though Youngjae mostly did it for the fleeting hiss of forbidden intimacy, their fingers so equal in width that it’s hard to tell them apart, tell whose is whose, it all molding together. 

It doesn’t matter how messy it is, how frantic and sloppy as they hold themselves together, the warm touch and pressure pure bliss after the rough drag of their underwear. Jaebum’s hips buck while he spills desperate noises between his lips, hanging open in exhaustion. And Youngjae’s hips buck while he’s panting hard, lungs straining with the task to keep up with oxygen supply and his eyes flicker rapidly between Jaebum’s blissed out face and their hard cocks, both angry red, both swollen and wet at the tip.

It doesn’t matter because every motion creates a friction that’s equal for both of them and pushes and drags them closer to the edge. Fast.

Youngjae’s free hand digs into the mattress as he leans forward, unfathomable desire to be just a little closer, reducing the space between them, allowing him to see the haziness in Jaebum’s eyes, pupils blown and wet around the edges, but also pressing his knuckles into the fabric of Jaebum’s sweater with his tight stomach underneath, but the surface feeling rough in comparison to the velvety skin of his length and he wonders if it feels the same for Jaebum, if their equality extends what is physical and allows them to have the same sensations, the same pleasure.

His mind isn’t blank, it’s full to the brim with thoughts and emotions and it’s almost overwhelming to the point where it has him whimper sadly in between his moans, too much to bear and no way to let it out. His bottom is squirming helplessly on top of Jaebum’s body, hand as frantic and uncontrolled in its movements as he feels. But it doesn’t matter. Every motion, as frantic or messy as it is, is good. No matter where they go, there’s always the right amount of friction, the combined warmth of their hands all-surrounding.

It’s the filthiest sex Youngjae’s ever had and yet the purest at the same time. He feels so hot and sweaty and overwhelmed. Being fully dressed makes it naughtier and yet chaste. He ruts into Jaebum’s hand, against his hard cock and everything is so much, so intense… The supposed climax is strangely anti-climactic.

His head drops, almost hitting Jaebum’s chest and he moans and shudders heavily when he feels his own muscles tense, the pull in his guts harsh and merciless. He comes in spurts, his cock twitching in Jaebum’s hold, each one a shiver of intense pleasure, a feeling as if he burned slowly starting at his crotch and spreading through his entire body, leaving him a pile of black ashes.

He’s distantly aware that most of what he releases ends up on Jaebum’s sweater, staining it sticky white, but some squeezes in between their hands, wetting their palms and cocks, a sudden slide so different than before, slippery when Youngjae’s hips buck through his orgasm. It takes a moment for the ringing in his ears to seize and only when it does is he able to hear Jaebum’s overwhelmed whimpering, his tight moans that drown out his own heavy pants. His fist loosens and in his mid-to post-orgasmic daze Youngjae needs to hold him firmer to make up for it, stroking him against his own softening length, creating an almost unpleasurable tingling sensation.

He’s whining under his breath, but Jaebum’s elbow gives out and he falls back flat into the sheets, eyes screwing shut and in a sudden jerk of hips and hands and space itself he cries out and comes hard. Youngjae frantically rubs him through it, eyes trained on his shaking, stretching form, even though he’s exhausted and can barely hold himself up, brain mush from his own recent orgasm he doesn’t want to miss just a second.

Jaebum is just as gorgeous when he comes as he’s always imagined it. Probably more so. So raw, so real and completely bare as his mess adds to the one Youngjae created first, cock pulsing in his fist, hot and loud. He sounds perfect, too, his deep, rough moans of pleasure making way to soft whimpering and it doesn’t stop abruptly. They fizzle out, getting quieter but more breathless, more desperate when the churning of his body weakens but doesn’t completely stop, Youngjae’s palm still closed around his length, all spent, all wet and he teases it with slow strokes.

“Youngjae.” He breathes out roughly and his hand finally slips away from between them, but his fingers curl around his arms, dig into his shirt and it takes but one firm pull and he falls, dropping down gracelessly and crushing into Jaebum’s chest. It knocks the air from his lungs and he lands quite uncomfortably, but Jaebum’s arms wrap around him and suddenly he can’t bring himself to care.

It’s the most awkward position, what with their cocks out and all and now Youngjae’s sweater is definitely messed-up too. But with his face pressed against Jaebum’s shoulder and the tightness of their bodies he can sense his warmth, even through the clothes and hear his ragged breath and he can feel the beating of his heart. Loud and hard and rapid.

“Youngjae...” Jaebum mutters and then “Fuck...” And then his arms tighten and hold him closer and Youngjae is completely incapable in his hold even though every single of his muscles is aching from the weird position and he can’t breathe enough and his dick hurts. He can’t move.

Jaebum takes it upon himself to roll them over, just so they’re both laying on the bed, facing each other. It doesn’t ease most of the discomfort and most importantly, it doesn’t help Youngjae breathe. It should, but now they’re looking at each other and they’re so close and also there’s so much adoration and sadness in Jaebum’s eyes and it’s a different kind of pressure on his chest.

“Don’t go...” Youngjae voices brokenly. Jaebum doesn’t smile. But he does move his hand up his arm and places it against his cheek and it’s the same hand that held his penis just moments ago, but Youngjae doesn’t care as he scoots in and kisses him.

And that’s what they do, lying in his bed with their clothes on and their dicks out and their hair messed-up and the coffee on the table and nothing clear between them and they kiss.

  
  


  
  


“I do have one handsome single friend.” Jinyoung cheers as he swings himself down on the empty chair next to Youngjae who sat alone on one of the white-decked tables, nipping a glass of champagne. “I can set you up.” His cheeks are deep pink and his sleeves rolled up, sweat glistening on his forehead and dampening the strands of hair falling in his face. When he lifts his hand to wipe one away, the golden ring sparkles in the fairy lights hanging on the wall.

Youngjae shakes his head. “No thanks.” He mutters to which Jinyoung pats him on the back, a bit too forceful, so that he jerks forward. “Oops.” Jinyoung giggles and pushed him back upright. He hasn’t been sober for a while. Youngjae can already see Jinyoung’s fresh baked husband Yugyeom eye them from the dancefloor. “He thinks you’re cute, I already checked with him.” Jinyoung insists. Despite him being pushy, Youngjae still feels the warmth in his chest linger that crept up ever since he first found himself in Jinyoung’s ‘long-time-no-see’ hug earlier that day. It’s a pity they fell out, he thinks, watching the crinkles around his eyes as he laughs and remembers how much he loved his friend once.

“I’m not available.” He answers eventually and witnesses a pout forming. “You said no plus one.” Jinyoung says. “So I assumed you’re single!” Youngjae tries to shrug it off. “He couldn’t...” He clears his throat. “He couldn’t come.” Jinyoung throws his hands up. “Aww what a pity.” He scrambles to his feet, just as his hubby makes his way over to their table. “Maybe we can go on a double date then, when we come to Seoul.” He says.

Youngjae smiles. “Yeah.” He answers and nods up to Jinyoung’s glowing face. Maybe it is after all time to leave things behind and move on. “Yeah. I’m sure Mark would like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry q_q
> 
> I just wanted to write clothed fucking :D


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